47. A Note on France in Summer.

Dearly Beloved,

The day after our arrival in Perigord we went to the local market and bought fish from a travelling fishmonger and his family and then purchased strawberries from a lady who came from the nearby village of Nabirat. Her business is cultivating and selling walnuts and strawberries. Her village is on high ground and last year her entire walnut crop from 400 trees was destroyed by a late frost. She still had the strawberries, although these are at risk from the weather too. Too hot and they become over ripe quite quickly and too wet and the taste is diluted as the fruits absorb too much water. This year France is in the grip of drought and temperatures in our first week were 32 degrees centigrade some 12 degrees centigrade above the May normal.

The Sunday after our arrival was the day of the strawberry fete at Nabirat which we regard as the start of summer, despite the fact it is sometimes held in late April. After all, if there are ripe strawberries it must be summer. The busiest of the many stalls at the fete sold plants for people's vegetable patches. Gardeners were rushing to get vegetables and salad planted whilst the moon was still waxing – as it is believed over much of western Europe that a waxing moon helps plant growth. The ancient communal bread oven in its own small domed building in the market square had been heated up for the occasion and traditional sourdough loaves were baked and sold.

Pride of place though went to “the largest strawberry tart in the world”. It comprised a wafer base covered in confectioners custard upon which the strawberries were placed. This tart, all 30 square meters of it, was cut up into squares and at 11:00 hrs we counted a queue of 140 people patiently waiting to buy a piece.

We bought strawberries from the local growers communal stall, then sauntered 400 metres down a grassy track to the nearby village spring which must have been crucial to the formation of the original mediaeval village. The spring now fed a pond full of yellow flowered water lilies. Upon their wide leaves cavorted noisy natter-jack toads seeking a mate. We ate a picnic lunch of strawberries and sweet white wine seated beside the old village wash place, where the spring water flowed between the two rows of sloping “washboard” stones upon which women in times past would have knelt to rub, soap, and rinse their washing. The presence of water is the key to where any village is founded. Nabirat also had a deep well in the village square to provide drinking water whilst a bigger flow of water was needed to wash clothes, and possibly people too. That day of the strawberry fete all was quiet by the spring, save for the croaking of the toads and the sporadic song of a nightingale.

Peace,

Paul.

Completed 2nd May 2022.

Photo: Paul Munton
The World's largest strawberry tart at Nabirat's strawberry fete.


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